The contrast between an abandoned phosphate mine - Number Six, now an idyllic pool - and an active phosphate mine in central Florida is vividly portrayed as a most unusual setting for this mystery.
They drew the Ford up in front of the big general store or commissary and entered hopefully. Bernice purchased half a dozen packages of chocolate, and while they were being wrapped Sydney engaged the stout, inert, and good-natured Mr. Caswell in conversation.
"Been up to old Number Six fishing lately?" he inquired nonchalantly. "I had pretty good luck there to-day. Never saw a hole so chockfull of fish!"
"No, I ain't been up there in a dog's age. Too fur to go, an' my little tin Lizzie's out o' commission lately anyhow. Caught a good mess over at Number Three yesterday."
"Do you know who's living in the old farm-house out at Six?" went on Sydney. "Seems to be inhabited now, though I never saw any one in it before."
"Well, you don't tell! Sure 'nough I hadn't heard tell there was any one there either. That place belongs to old Doc Halsey over to Bartow. He's that mean he never would do any repairs on it, and so he ain't had any one to live in it these five ye